Healing Hearts
by SunnydaleGirl
Summary: Buffy's dead and Willow's abandoned with a bleeding heart. Can Spike heal her wounds? Complete.
1. Chapter One

**Summary:** Buffy's dead and Willow's abandoned with a bleeding heart. Can Spike heal her wounds?

**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to be – I swear!

**Rating:** G, maybe a bit PG towards the end.

**Author's Note:** Set, loosely, post-season 5 but Dawn doesn't exist in my story. After Buffy's death Giles went back to England, Tara left and Xander skipped town. Only Spike remained behind.

Willow had seen the storms of change approaching. She'd felt their icy tears wash away all strength, all security that she had once possessed leaving her vulnerable to the elements. But it happened so tentatively, so gradually, that Willow hadn't truly noticed until it was too late and there was no turning back. Abandoned to shoulder the weight alone Willow was forced to turn to the only support she had left. Not that it was necessarily a bad turn, just…different. Willow had noticed, too, his subtle advances and tried to shut them out – she swore to never again let someone close enough to hurt her. But Willow was weak and she quickly grew desperate for that look he so tenderly gave her and inside she screamed for the love he was so willing to give her. Of all people to lose herself to, Spike would have been at the bottom of her list if not for recent events.

Tara had left her, Xander had skipped town, Giles had been called back to England and Buffy…Buffy had died saving the world. She very nearly lost Spike as well but he was never one to give up so easily. His recovery had been relatively slow, considering his vampire healing, and Willow had hardly left his side. Spike was all she had left and she felt that she owed it to him to stay with him. No one deserves to be alone during times like that. Maybe it was selfishness that kept Willow there; a need to not be alone while her heart bled. After Spike was well enough to move around again, he and Willow would spend hours just talking. He really opened up to her and Willow had been amazed to find that beneath his harsh exterior Spike was gentle and sensitive. Together they tried helped each other mend their wounds and get past their loss. Despite his denials, Willow had always known that Spike had grown to care about the Scooby Gang and even to respect each Scooby in his own way.

"What are you doing out here, love?" Spike had followed Willow one night a few weeks after 'the incident'.

"Just talking," she murmured with tear stained cheeks. Placing a hand against the cold stone, Willow couldn't fight the sobs that echoed from her throat. Kneeling beside her, Spike had taken Willow into his arms and rocked her gently until her tears subsided. Running his fingers through her locks and placing a kiss on her brow he held back his own cries. Spike had respected Buffy for her not only her Slayer skills but also the sheer capacity of her love for her friends and her willingness to sacrifice everything to keep them safe.

"Come on red, let's get you out of the cold," Spike had led Willow away from Buffy's grave, bringing her back to her parent's house.

That had been the first, but not the last, time Spike had found Willow sitting on the wet ground in front of Buffy's grave crying silent tears. She was so fragile but so strong. Never once did Willow allow herself to fall apart even though she had nothing. Spike swore that if he ever saw Xander again he'd rip out his throat. How could he just leave Willow to suffer by herself? He was weak and selfish and didn't even think to consider that maybe Willow might need him. It didn't matter though, Spike was there and he wasn't going anyway. Willow had helped him recover; put his needs before her own and that's not something one forgets.

The weeks slipped by painfully slow and each night Spike listened to Willow's whimpers and tears. Nightmares plagued her every time she shut her eyes and her sleeplessness showed in the black circles that hung beneath her eyes and the paleness of her skin. Spike also noticed that she had stopped eating and her body grew thin. Grief was slowly eating her alive and it was now Spike's turn to heal Willow.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

          How many nights did Willow remember waking in Spike's arm? Her cheeks burning with tears and her lips parted to some unuttered cry. She dreamt so often of Buffy. Every night, it seem, Willow watched her friend die over and over again unable to stop it; unable to save her. If only I had been there, Willow thought, I might have been able to help. But Willow had done as Buffy told her to do: stay put. Xander and Willow and Giles, they had sat in the Magic Shop for hours before realizing that something was wrong. Willow felt it the instant it happened. An icy finger trailed down her spine and she knew that Buffy was gone. It was then that Willow wished for Tara, but the young witch had left because Willow wasn't willing to leave her Sunnydale life and start a "normal" life with her. Tara had been so cold, so selfish. She couldn't see that Willow could never leave her friends; that she never wanted too. Giles was called back mere days after Buffy funeral and Xander just up and left one morning without even saying goodbye. All she had left was Spike and all he had was Willow.

          Willow had grown so quiet after Buffy's funeral. She and Spike would talk every now and then but other than that Willow kept to herself. She stopped attending classes and refused to leave her house for any reason. Slipping so slowly into her own mind; her own pain, Willow couldn't see the hope that stood right before her. Spike was the only person she let in; the only person she trusted enough to reveal her grief. When did things so suddenly change? When did Willow start seeing Spike as a friend instead of just a vampire? They were each other's support and together they tried to pull their lives back together.

          "Hey red," Spike spoke his seat on the couch. Willow turned her head away the television. "How 'bout you and me go out tonight?"

          "Go where?"

          "Wherever," Spike shrugged.

          "I don't know Spike," Willow turned away. "I don't really feel like going out."

          "Come on love," he insisted. "When was the last time you left the house?" Willow shrugged. "Three weeks," Spike answered his own question. "Please Willow? For me. Just a walk around the block."

          "Okay Spike," she sighed. "Around the block."

          It was a beautiful night; a slight chill hung in the air. The moon was out and the stars twinkled. Porch lights shimmered a harsh yellow glow and puddles from an earlier rain reflected silver and black. Spike was on guard, listening for any movement that might be dangerous. Willow was too lost in her own thoughts and memories to pay any attention to her surroundings. Deep down she was hoping they would be attacked so that her life could just end and take with it all the pain and grief that was swelling inside of her. Sighing, Willow crossed her arms over her chest, shivering slightly. Noticing that she was cold, Spike laid his leather trench coat over her shoulders. Smiling her thanks Willow clutched the material around her body.

          Even though it was dangerous Willow had always loved walking at night. Sunnydale was just so beautiful beneath the stars. But after Buffy came to town and brought Xander and Willow into her life Willow had been restricted from going out at night except when necessary and even then there was no time to appreciate the beauty. It was strange really that the one person Willow trusted with her life was one of the creatures she so completely feared. She had never really trusted Spike before; he was so closed off and cold that she had a chance to really get to know him. Now, though, he was everything in her world. All she had left. There was nothing she didn't know about him now; nothing he wouldn't tell her.

          "Spike," Willow stopped walking. "Where are we going? You said around the block and this is not the block," she turned an accusing eye to the bleach blond vampire.

          "Caught that huh?" Spike said sheepishly. Willow starred angrily. "I'm worried about you pet," Spike confessed. "You've been slipping ever since…" Willow winced at the memory and Spike quickly moved on. "I thought that maybe if you had something to take your mind off of it you'd be able to move past it."

          "What are you talking about Spike?"

          "Over here," he took Willow's hand and led her through the cast-iron gate at the entrance of the park. Sitting beneath a wide tree base was a checkered blanket held down with lit candles; a large picnic basket sitting at the center.

          "Oh Spike," Willow whispered. "It's perfect."

          "Sit," he smiled. Lifting the basket lid Spike pulled out two wine glasses and filled both with deep red wine. Sipping the warm liquid Willow watched Spike pull several containers and leaned in to see what each held. A rich brie cheese was placed beside a plate of thin toast crackers; a bowl of fresh fruit was laid out beside a smaller bowl of whipped cream; and a third container held two slices of a moist chocolate cake."

          "It's wonderful," Willow smiled. "Thank you Spike."

          "Anything for you red," Spike responded.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

          He'd been noticing the welts for several days now; angry, red marks against her porcelain skin. She winced every time they brushed against her clothing and Spike had seen her wiping away blood when they oozed open again. He knew what they were and why she was mutilating her body but that didn't mean he had to understand it. Willow had seen him watching her and knew he had seen the cuts but that never stopped her. She needed the pain, the fiery throb, to mask the bleeding of her heart. She had tried long enough to just forget and was tired of being strong. It hurt too much to just bottle everything up and pretend that things were okay. She could paste on a fake smile and even laugh at the right times but that freeness, that happiness never reached her eyes.

          Spike watched her everyday and awed at the strength she had. Her life had turned completely upside-down but she still managed to keep control. Or, at least, she did for those fist weeks. Six weeks, Spikes figured, since Buffy died. Six weeks since Willow was abandoned by the people she loved. Six weeks since she and Spike found the comfort and release they needed in each others company. Spike still found Willow sitting at Buffy's grave at least twice a week and how many times she ventured to cemetery during the day he didn't know. She just wasn't letting go. Willow was clinging so tightly to the past and still held the foolish hope that things could be like they were before. She didn't want to believe or accept that Buffy was really gone, that Xander had really split, that she had really been abandoned. It was easier for Spike because he had been around death for one-hundred and twenty plus years. He'd seen his friends fall to ashes; watched all those he loved disappear into nothingness. Hell, Spike thought, I killed my own mother for god's sake.

          She'd taken to lying in bed all day in the dark, starring at the ceiling, when Spike decided they needed a change. After making a few phone calls he started to pack. Willow needed new scenery; some place far away from Sunnydale and her memories. Spike was determined to help Willow heal. She had started to worm her way into his dead heart over the weeks. Seeing her in so much pain made Spike hurt too. Willow was a sweet, innocent girl who didn't deserve the agony that clung so desperately to her heart. Spike would fix things; he would make Willow realize what she needed wasn't all that far away.

          She heard him rummaging around the house early one morning. His clunky boots beating across the hardwood flooring outside her room and his muttered curses drifting under her door each time he dropped something or forgot something. Back and forth, back and forth; up the stairs, down the stairs then back up once more. Pulling a pillow over her face Willow tried to shut out the noise Spike was making but curiosity got the better of her and she slipped out of bed quietly. Pressing her hear to the door joining her room to his Willow listened to what sounded like packing. His closet door creaked open and clothes rustled as he tore them from hangers, a slight hiss coming from a zipper closing. Moving into his bathroom Willow listened to him tossing his toiletries into some kind of bag and heard it click shut then being tossed onto his bed. Willow was thoroughly confused.

          Glancing over his room Spike checked for the hundredth time that he had packed everything. Running his fingers through his hair he reached into his pocket and lit a cigarette, turning his eyes to Willow's room. All that needed to be done was get her all packed up and they'd be able to leave. Hoping that she wouldn't put up a fight Spike moved the door joining his rooms to Willows and swung it open. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, an accusing gaze in her eye and foot tapping impatiently. He'd been caught.

          "What the hell are you doing Spike?" Willow tried to keep her voice calm.

          "What do you mean, pet?" Spike brushed away the question.

          "Spike," raising an eyebrow, Willow tilted her head slightly and locked Spike in an expectant glare.

          "All right," he sighed, punching his fists into his pockets. "I've made us a little arrangement."

          "Arrangement?"

          "A trip, love. To Florence," Spike said cautiously.

          "Italy?" Willow exclaimed. "You're taking me to Italy!"

          "You're not mad red?"

          "Mad?" Willow screamed, leaping into Spikes arms. "Are you kidding?"


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

          The flight was exhausting and Willow lost count of the hours somewhere after six. Other than constantly making sure Spike was out of the sun's reach Willow was bored out of her mind. Sure there were a couple of in-flight movies but they weren't to her taste. So, instead of watching the movies or reading or listening to a CD like everyone else on the flight Willow was trapped in her dreams. Reliving, over and over the traumatic events that had so ruined her life. She woke with a start several times, a silent cry hanging on her lips, only to find Spike eyeing her wearily.

          Spike was another issue Willow had to deal with. He had dished out all this money – from where Willow didn't even venture a guess – then tried to assure her it was "no big deal" and the money would have never been used if he hadn't sprung for the trip. Willow wasn't an idiot and she knew that Spike was worried about her, though he'd never say as much aloud, and was just trying to get her away from her past. What Spike didn't know, however, was that the farther Willow left Sunnydale behind the quicker her memories came.

          The pain, the guilt, the regret, the undeniable urge to end it all simply to stop the hurt – it was all there, lingering inside of Willow and she didn't know if it'd ever go away.

          "You okay, love?"

          Startled from her thoughts it took Willow a few seconds to place herself again. "Yeah," swallowing her memories Willow plastered a smile on her face. "I'm fine Spike. I was just thinking."

          "About what?" Spike asked suspiciously.

          Shrugging, Willow answered, "Nothing in particular. Just thinking."

          "You're a horrible liar Willow."

          Glaring, Willow looked Spike straight in the eye and replied, "So are you blondie."

          After that the two fell into silence – Spike starring at the seat in front of him and Willow peering through the unshuttered window in front of her. Both wanting to speak both knowing it'd do no good. Occasionally Spike would glance at Willow and just miss her glancing at him. Willow knew Spike's motive for planning this trip and Spike knew what it was that plagued Willow's thought – neither, however, were willing to admit to it.

          So, the flight continued and finally came to an end. What hour of the morning it was Willow couldn't fathom a guess all she knew was that it was A.M. – very, very, A.M. Groggily she followed Spike through the airport to claim their baggage and was only vaguely aware of getting into a cab and being taken to a hotel room many, many stories up. She remembered nothing, however, after collapsing onto her bed and surrendering to sleep. Thankfully, though, her dreams were of nothing and she woke refreshed and smiling.

          Shuffling into the rooms kitchen – the hotel room, as it turned out, was the penthouse suite and, Willow swore, larger than the whole of Sunnydale – Willow smelled bacon and eggs sizzling and was immediately drawn. "Morning, love."

          Happily accepting the mug of coffee Spike offered her Willow dove into the plate of food before her and devoured not one, but two servings before pushing the plate away. Willow's face, however, fell suddenly and tears began to slip down her cheeks. "Buffy used to make us all bacon and eggs after all-night research or demon hunting."

          Sighing, Spike took Willow in his arms and caressed her back until her sobs stilled. Chiding himself on such a stupid mistake Spike eased Willow's stiffened form and placed a gentle kiss on her brow. "Can I ask you something, red?"

          "Of course, Spike."

          Sitting back in his own chair Spike locked Willow in a scrutinizing gaze. "Why do you do it?"

          Paling, Willow swallowed and lowered her eyes from Spikes. "What do you mean?" She knew, however, exactly what he meant.

          "Don't play the idiot Wills," Spikes voice sharpened, "you're no good at it." But Willow didn't answer and Spike pressed, "Damnit Willow, answer me!"

          "No," she snapped drumming up what little strength she had left. "It's not _any_ of your business."

          "None of my business?" Spike repeated disbelievingly. "Red you're mutilating yourself and you have the audacity to say it's none of my business?"

          "That's right, Spike," Willow pushed herself to her feet and cast a cold stare at Spike. "What I do to my _own_ body is no one's business but my own so just but out!"

          "I can't do that, pet," Spike's voice softened as he stepped closer to the redhead. "What happens to you does concern me because if anything happened to you – "

          "How do you do that?" Willow was close to tears again and forced herself to be still.

          "Do what?"

          "Make me feel like crying when I'm on the verge of punching you?"

          Spike chuckled and tucked a strand of Willow's hair behind her ear. "Just one of my many talents."

          Willow smiled. "I'm almost afraid to ask what the other's are."

          Grinning cockily Spike lowered his voice and said, "All you have to do is ask red."

          Blushing, Willow turned away and left to take a shower.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

          It was her anniversary. Three months. Three months since Willow's world crumbled. Three months since existence became a struggle. Three months since her razor started looking like an escape. Three month's since Buffy saved the world and lost her own life.

          Spike had hoped that all the progress Willow had made that last three weeks since leaving Sunnydale would give her the strength she needed to handle the Day. But every inch she had moved disappeared with a single lunge backwards. Willow retreated back into her own mind and Spike lost his grip.

          She sat in her room all through the Anniversary, just starring at the wall. Not moving, not speaking. If Spike hadn't heard her heartbeat he would have thought her dead. She had walled herself inside her own mind and tormented herself by reliving the Day over and over in her head. Willow blamed herself for Buffy's death, Spike knew, and prayed every day that it had been her instead.

          Willow was slipping and Spike could not longer reach her.

          "How about a bite to eat pet?"

          "I'm not hungry," Willow barely whispered.

          "You have to eat something Willow."

          She didn't even respond to Spike just continued to stare at the wall. Sighing, Spike shut her door and went back to his own room. There had to be something he could do. He would find the answer. He'd never abandon her to such a fate.

          Spike sat at Willow's side for three days – holding her hand, talking to her about mundane things, encouraging her to respond. At first, there was no response to any of Spike's attempts and he began to fear the worst. But during the second day, late into the night, he turned to talking about Buffy and Willow responded.

          She tried to hide her reactions, at first, but Spike felt her sudden movements, heard her heartbeat quicken, smelled the tears on her cheeks. Buffy was the key and Spike began to slowly unlock the gate. He spoke only of her heroic deeds and her love for her friends. He had always admired Buffy, even before becoming her ally, so his compliments were heartfelt and Willow knew it. It would have been easy for her to ignore Spike if his statements were false – but they weren't.

          "She had more strength then I could ever imagine possessing," Spike whispered. "Do you know why? Because of you. Her friends were the strength of her foundation and you, Willow, you were the glue that held them together. Without you Buffy would have been less a Slayer then she was."

          On the third day Spike broke Willow's barrier and released all the emotion she had bottled up inside herself. Willow's tears came like a river released from a dam – strong, continuous, desperate. She clung to Spike and wept until her body grew weary and fell into a light sleep. But even in her dreams Willow cried and reached out for Spike's comfort.

          Spike was her pillar and Willow was teetering.

          It was on the fourth day that Willow opened up and finally allowed herself to talk about Buffy and her death. Spike listened, never uttering a word, while she revealed her heart. 

          "If only I'd been there," Willow muttered. "I could have done something."

          "Gotten yourself killed right alongside her," Spike responded. Willow looked up, startled at his sharp tone. "Willow you being there would have only hindered her. Buffy needed to concentrate on defeating that demon and if you had been there she would have been thinking about _you_ and that would have gotten her killed before she was able to save the world."

          "But, I could have done _something_ instead of just sitting around doing nothing."

          "Willow it was _not_ your fault. No," Spike forced Willows eyes to meet his. "Look at me. Buffy was the Slayer and she died saving the world. Would you deny her of the fate and the praise she deserves?" Willow didn't answer. "And don't believe you did nothing because that's not true. You were her reason for fighting; for not giving up. _You_ were what kept Buffy from accepting defeat. _You_ were what gave her the strength to fight."

          Willow slept peacefully that night and the next morning she wore a smile as she rolled out of bed.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

          Two months. They'd been in Florence for two months and Willow's condition wasn't improving as Spike would have liked. She had her occasional up days – where she would spend only a few hours crying in her bed and a smile was even glimpsed on her lips every so often. But nine out of ten days were down days – not much different then those in Sunnydale. Willow would be completely attentive and responsive and was, to most degree, normal except for one thing: there was no life behind her eyes. No spark. Just hollow rooms shuttered against the world.

          But Spike felt as though he were watching a play and Willow was the main character. She moved through each day just as she was expected to do; did everything that was expected of her and to the audience she appeared flawless. But Spike wasn't the audience, he was the director and from his place backstage he saw each and every one of Willow's flaws. Saw that her motions were stiff and her lines forced. Willow was pretending and Spike saw right through her.

          "I think we need to talk, love."

          Looking up from the television Willow asked, "About what?"

          Flipping over the television Spike lowered frustrated eyes on the redhead. "Damnit Willow you're not fooling me."

          Innocence sparkled in Willow's eyes and her lower lip pouted while she responded, "I don't understand Spike."

          Shaking his head Spike stepped closer to Willow. "I'm done pretending to believe this little act you're putting on. You're _not_ okay Willow and you're not moving past Buffy's death."

          Willow winced at his harsh tone and, as if on cue, tears started to slip down her cheeks. "Why are you saying all this?"

          "You're sick Willow and you're not letting me help you."

          "I'm not sick!" Willow leapt to her feet, anger suddenly consuming her. "I'm not. I'm doing better, really I am," Willow started to rave like a little girl trying to convince her parents of her innocence – it reminded Spike eerily of Drusilla.

          "But you're not letting go," Spike pressed gently.

          "I don't have to," Willow pouted. "You can't make me. I don't want to believe it." Willow was now backing away towards her room "Buffy's not dead and if I can't find her here then I'll go someplace where I can."

          Turning on her heel Willow ran to her room and locked the door. Spike starred, speechless, at the closed door. What the hell was that? Grabbing his coat Spike decided that he needed a little fresh air to clear his mind – and to give Willow a little space.

          It wasn't until he was a good six blocks from their hotel room that Willow's words hit Spike: If I can't find her here then I'll go someplace where I can. At first her words confused the vampire for obvious reasons: Buffy was dead and there was no place Willow could find her unless…

          "Oh, bloody hell no!"

          She was still locked in her room. Frantic, Spike kicked open the door prepared to find the worst. Relief washed through him momentarily because he didn't smell her blood. But that relief vanished the moment his eyes settled upon her. Cowering in the corner with her arms wrapped around her body Willow was pale and motionless, her eyes starring forward at some unseen point in space. Rushing to her side Spike shook the unresponsive redhead, calling her name and begging her to wake up.

          But she didn't.

          Willow had abandoned all hope and lost all strength to continue fighting. Unable to accept the truth and refusing to let go Willow had gone in search of her friend. Inside of her own mind Willow had locked herself and she was, then, truly lost to the world.


End file.
